Last Chance at First Love
by teacupsNmints
Summary: This was written for a one-shot contest once upon a time, but it was never posted.  Think Louis L'Amour and a stereotypical Harlequin romance meeting up in a blender. LOL  Jasper/Bella Mature


**Okay…So, I wrote this a while ago for a contest. It was supposed to be in the style of the old-fashioned romance novels. Anyway, I was in such a rush to meet the deadline that I hadn't had a chance to have it properly beta'd and it was apparently not of good enough quality for the contest. So now, I am posting it for you-whoever may wish to read it. LOL**

Father Whitlock traveled down the long dusty trail to the Swan property. It was his third trip to the Swan household since moving to the small town of Forks ten months prior. His first trip was to introduce himself, as he did with all the prominent members of the community. The second, tragically, was after Bella's brother Sam had fallen from the railroad tracks sitting high above Laurent Creek. He'd been showing off, as young men sometimes do, trying to impress the pretty Emily Young. He had landed on a cluster of rocks, breaking his neck and dying instantly. Totally distraught, Bella and her father spent month after excruciating month trying to put the pieces of their lives back together despite the growing hole in their ever shrinking family. Sheriff Swan and his only daughter consoled one another, holding on tightly to their faith in God and finding comfort in the preacher's reassurance that Emmett was now in a better place.

With a tear in his eye and an unshakeable burden on his shoulder, Father Whitlock straightened his collar as he tied his horse to the large oak on the edge of the Swan property. He walked with heavy boots along the uneven stone walk that led to the wooden steps he climbed at the foot of the Swan's front porch. The preacher swallowed down the lump in his throat and raised his hand toward the thickest slat in the center of the wooden door, knocking three times. On the third knock, it opened.

"Daddy, you're back early…" Bella cried, a smile stretching wide across her pretty face. Her brown eyes danced and sparkled in the sunlight as her long chocolate locks flowed in the breeze. Realizing her visitor wasn't who she'd expected, the palest shade of pink washed across her sweet face.

With disappointment evident in her voice, Bella's words were still cordial. "Father Whitlock, what a pleasant surprise. Please come in. Would you like a glass of lemonade? I just made it. It's still cool from the spring."

"Thank you, Ma'am, but…" the preacher started.

Bella smiled as she stood on her tiptoes to reach the special tin cup meant for guests where it sat way up on a high shelf; totally unaware that her skirt slid askew, baring her petticoat and a large portion of her calf. "Daddy will be so sorry he missed your visit. What brings you all the way out to our neck of the woods on such a warm day?"

She turned to spy the preacher's eyes cast down toward her feet, a slight smile playing on his lips. Remembering the reason for his visit, his gaze jerked up as he met her eyes with remorse and guilt.

"Miss Bella…I wish I was here on a happier occasion. It seems I have terrible news. There's been an unfortunate occurrence in town…some strangers passing through…starting trouble…."

"Daddy." Barely audible, the whisper was a statement, not a question.

Backing up, her body found the sofa just before her legs gave out. This was the moment Bella had feared her entire life. She'd always known the risks involved with her father being the town sheriff, but he'd forever been so strong and able. Charlie Swan had been Bella's hero for as far back as she could remember. And, in the months since Sam had been gone, he'd been her primary concern from the time she opened her eyes first thing in the morning until sleep rendered her unconscious at night.

Amid the preacher's words, Bella's thoughts drifted to tender moments shared between father and daughter over the years: fishing trips and berry picking, rope swings and piggy back rides. He'd been the only caregiver Bella really remembered, having lost her mother to influenza when she was just three years old. Bella had had to mature more quickly than most girls; learning to sew and cook and tend the farm at a very early age. Her brother Emmett helped some too, but he'd been a rambunctious soul, never slowing down. It was almost as if he'd known what a short time he'd have to experience all that life had to offer.

Illogical as it was, she had truly thought this day would never come.

Bella was lost in thought and didn't hear a word as Father Whitlock explained the horrible events of her father's death. It didn't matter. She didn't want to know. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing her father's image, bleeding and pale, seared in her memory for eternity. She preferred to think of him the way she'd last seen him; in high spirits, his sturdy form waving back at her from atop his horse as he left for town that morning. The only fact that existed now in her mind- was that he was gone- and she was alone-and she'd miss him terribly. Tears filled her eyes. Her Daddy was gone, and she had no idea what she was going to do without him.

A week had passed since Bella's world had fallen apart, and word in the small town spread quickly. During a time that she simply needed to heal and adjust to the fact that she was all alone; her life became filled with a bustling whirlwind of commotion. It seemed every available man within a fifty mile radius had learned of the new property owner's sad predicament. Each caller appeared more interested than the last, showering her with gifts as an attempt to soothe her aching heart; all the while their minds undoubtedly focused on the real prize. Bella had an unmatchable kind of natural beauty that whether she was dressed for church or in the barn slopping the pigs, her flawless complexion, russet locks and soft slender body outshone anything else. She was simply dazzling. This contributed to the fervor with which each suitor pursued the pretty girl; her reputation as being _untouched_ making the quest even more sweet.

The Sunday, following her father's service, Father Whitlock escorted Bella home. She'd made a request to the congregation that they allow her to mourn in peace. The saddened residents of Forks bestowed dish after dish of food upon Bella. Unable to ever use it all, she requested most be donated to the local orphanage. The remaining dishes Father Whitlock carried into her kitchen and set down on the counter.

"Thank you so much for your kindness Father, but I could have managed on my own." she said.

"I wouldn't think of it, Miss Swan. You have been through enough. A little kindness is due." The preacher smiled at Bella, his green eyes sparkling; rousing strange feelings in Bella that caused her cheeks to flush.

"Umm..I suppose I'd better put these things away." She said her words breathy.

She reached for a dish with a blue and white checked cloth, the very one Father Whitlock was reaching for too. His fingers brushed the inside of Bella's arm causing her to quiver.

Not understanding or condoning her feelings, Bella insisted she'd be fine on her own. Encouraging Father Whitlock to check that the other dishes made it to the orphanage, Bella walked the man of the cloth to the door.

Just as thoughts of heaven and hell, fire and brimstone began to consume the poor confused girl's mind, there was a knock at the door.

It was the vile James Culbertson from the next property over. He'd lost his wife to scarlet fever two years prior. Bella could never understand how a man who seemed so opposed to bathing could have ever found a wife at all.

Thus begun her new daily ritual. First, James would call. Then, the kind but dull Emmett McCarty would pay a visit. He'd never been married, owned nothing to his name-but at least he could make Bella laugh. Last, Dr. Carlisle would drop in. He was a kind enough man, what some might call handsome, and he was certainly well settled. But he was old enough to be Bella's father. That fact alone caused an eerie chill to run the length of her spine each time he placed his hand on her back or shoulder for "comfort".

Once the final visitor had gone, Bella secured the property for the evening, blew out the flame from her oil lamp and began her night's slumber. She'd been sleeping in her father's large bed he'd once shared with her mother, rather than climbing the narrow ladder into the loft as she'd done since she was a tiny girl. She found comfort in the familiar smells still settled deep in the downy softness of the large bed. It made her feel a little less alone.

Each day, Bella tended the horses, milked the cow, gathered eggs and saw to the garden. She learned to make meals for one, finishing up just before James popped in that evening. By the time Emmett and Carlisle had made their rounds, Bella welcomed the moment her head hit the pillow.

It had become a monotonous routine and one she would welcome a break from. The townsfolk had already begun wagering which local gent would set claim to Bella as his own. The simple thought of being even remotely intimate with any one of that lot caused bile to rise up into the poor girl's throat.

The only thing she grew to look forward to…to welcome…was her Sunday visits with Father Whitlock. He was quite the fascinating man, having experienced so many things before becoming a man of the cloth.

"How old are you Father …umm...if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm 23. And you?"

"I'm 19. But I feel like I've been grown my whole life. How old were you Father, when you chose to become a man of God?"

"Well, Miss Swan, it was never a choice I made, but rather a life I'd always known I was destined. I made the commitment three years ago."

"At 20 years old. Why…isn't that quite young to make such a …permanent commitment."

"I don't look at it that way. You see, Miss Swan, I have seen and done things in my life that many men only dream of. And, as far as a commitment, many commit themselves to marriage at a much younger age than I. After all, an oath before God is still an oath, regardless of who you are committing yourself to."

Interest sparkled in Bella's eyes. "What sorts of things have you seen Father, please tell me."

"Well, one of my favorite experiences in life was the time I spent living as a member of the Quileute Indians. I packed up just what I needed to survive, and under the helpful guidance and protection of Chief Clearwater, I lived as one of the tribe…hunting deer and fishing for my food. In exchange, I taught some of the young braves to read and bartered with books."

"How exciting! Do you still see the Quileute? I'd love to send some books for them with you some time. Only if that is appropriate, of course."

"Of course. That would be a quite generous and appreciated gift. Perhaps you could even accompany me sometime, Miss Swan? To deliver those books in person."

Bella's smile was radiant as it filled her entire face. "I would like that very much."

As weeks passed, the pair spent more and more of their Sundays together. Father Whitlock's company soon became the one thing that helped Bella make it to the end of the week.

Father Whitlock escorted Bella home from church each Sunday and they'd share a day full of laughter and stories before sharing dinner. They'd remain together until the last pink ray of sunshine peeked out over the golden horizon.

One Sunday, as Father Whitlock ran his fingertips along the spines of the books on Bella's shelf, he said "Would you still be willing to donate some books to the Quileute?"

"Yes! Of course!" Bella exclaimed.

"Then I will make arrangements for the Saturday next. I can join you here at sun up and we can begin our journey. It shouldn't take more than a few hours to get there."

"Oh my!" Bella giggled as she threw her arms around the preacher's neck. "I can't wait! This is going to be a real adventure-oh thank you!"

Bella stopped squealing in time to realize her nose was in a very close proximity to Father Whitlock's. Her eyes immediately settled on his Adam's apple, which dance d uncontrollably as he swallowed repeatedly. Her gaze traveled up to the strong jaw she'd occasionally admired, working its way his breath-taking emerald eyes.

Realizing their stare held a bit too long, they each broke the hold they'd had on one another. Bella took several steps back, embarrassed.

Father Whitlock politely excused himself and showed himself out. Mortified, Bella simply waved from the doorway. She refrained from walking him to the edge of the porch, as she normally did.

That night, Bella dreamt of Father Whitlock for the first time. They were alone in the dark church, admiring the way the moonlight cast in through the one stain-glass window over the altar. She was in his arms, her head on his shoulder. Just as he leaned forward to kiss her, she woke up. Bella made a point to pray that day…several times….begging for forgiveness and mercy.

Soon the day had come that Father Whitlock had arranged for Bella to join him on his journey to the Quileute reservation. She pulled out many of her old books, her childhood treasures from years past. She fingered the pages, remembering her father reading them to both her and Sam as young children. She pictured herself helping Sam learn to read with those very books, as he had struggled more so than she. Part of her wanted to hold onto those pieces of her history, unwilling to let any more of her past go-but Bella also knew the books were no longer of any use to her, and they would bring such joy to the children of the Quileute tribe.

Bella woke early, so anticipating the coming day she was barely able to sleep at all. As soon as the sun rose from above the trees, she had her horse hitched and ready to go. She packed a basket with a loaf of bread, a small jar of butter and bag of sugar. After filling a jug with water from the spring, Bella stepped out onto the porch carrying a satchel full of books. Her gaze set at the top of the trail, as she watched Father Whitlock from the time he came into view until he stepped foot on her property. The entire time, her face was lit with more happiness than a jar full of fireflies on a summer's night.

Father Whitlock rode right up to the porch. From atop his steed, he was eye level with Bella on the porch.

"Mornin' Miss Swan." he said with a nod of his head, tipping his white hat. "Something sure smells delicious."

"I made fresh bread this morning. Thought we might like a bite along the way."

"That was fine thinking." He said, still nodding-his eyes glued to hers. "Very fine."

"Please, Father. Call me Bella. Daddy always did, and Sam. But now-nobody does. So…would you, please?"

He placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. "I'd be honored to call you by your first name, but only on one condition. Since I live far from my parents and sister, I never get to hear my first name anymore either. So, please-when we are outside of the church-won't you please call me Jasper?"

"Jasper." She tried it out. "Jasper" she repeated, saying it this time with her eyes closed.

She smiled. "I had no idea what your name was. But Jasper is such a warm and comforting name. It suits you."

"Thank you." He laughed softly before his voice became more serious as he studied her face. "And I believe, if my time in Italy served me well, that Bella actually means beautiful." He dropped his gaze to the ground as he spoke. "So, your name, too-is perfect." Still looking down, Jasper's lips edged ever so slightly upward.

_Sometimes the smallest gesture sends the grandest message._

Blushing, Bella mounted her horse, attaching the basket to her saddle. She followed Jasper up the trail as they began their journey together.

They traveled for quite some time before stopping for lunch. Bella removed the basket as Jasper pulled a blanket form his saddle bag. He spread it out in the middle of the most beautiful meadow filled with greens and purples and blues. Bella admired the view as she removed the bread from the basket, un-wrapped the knife from the cheesecloth she'd wrapped it in that morning and sliced a few pieces from the loaf. She used the dull side of the knife to spread the butter on each slice of bread before sprinkling the tops with sugar. She handed a slice to Jasper, her fingertips brushing the tops of his knuckles. Immediately she noticed a sort of electricity or tingling running up her arm. She stared wide-eyed at her hand before noticing a strange look on Father Jasper's face.

The remainder of their lunch was quiet, the silence lightened by smiles and darting glances. Their once laughter filled conversations replaced by chemistry charged silence.

Several hours later, Father Jasper led them onto the Quileute reservation. Many eyes studied Bella. Never had they seen such fair skin, such strange clothing-layers upon layers of clothing.

Father Whitlock introduced Bella to Chief Clearwater, who thanked her for her kind gesture of giving with an offering of brightly colored strung beads. He placed them around her neck. Several women of the tribe handed her pretty painted cooking pots and dishes, woven baskets and rugs. Bella was overwhelmed by their gratitude and kind giving nature. She thanked him in both English and in Quileute (with Jasper's assistance, of course.). The children flocked to Bella. As she knelt down to play with them, the little girls braided and wove flowers into her hair.

Father Whitlock walked and talked with Chief Clearwater, but never once let his eyes leave Bella.

With a quick rustling of leaves and loud whoops and yells, the young hunters returned to the reservation carrying their bounty. Leading the pack of young braves was a tall muscular fellow who went by the name of Black. He couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old. Immediately fixating on the paleface girl, he positioned himself to be near her at all times, watching her every move.

Father Whitlock approached the young man. They spoke words Bella could not hear. Jasper called the chief over. Their body language, the harshness in their faces and the looks darting her direction had Bella's stomach in knots.

Jasper suddenly moved very quickly toward Bella, taking her hand in his and leading her to their horses.

"What's going on?" She asked, fear evident in her voice.

"We need to go." was all Jasper said.

Bella, wide-eyed and scared but trusting her friend completely, mounted her horse and followed his lead. They quickly moved from a trot to a gallop to something altogether faster. Once they were a good distance from the reservation, Father Jasper slowed down a bit.

"That young brave, Black, was quite taken with you."

"Oh? Is that why we had to leave so abruptly?" She felt bad that she hadn't gotten to read with the children.

"It was more than just attraction. He spoke of claiming you as his…something not uncommon amongst the Native Americans."

"As his…meaning…" Bella started, unsure exactly what to say.

"As in claiming you for his wife-his property-his squaw." Anger coated his words as Jasper spewed the details to Bella.

"Oh." She said softly, encouraging her horse to move faster. She knew it was important to get home before dusk, because if Black wanted to find her-nobody knew the forests better than a Quileute.

At lightning speed, she and the preacher sped on their horses up the trails until they rode right onto Bella's property. Quickly they secured the horses in the barn and moved up into the house. Jasper instantly began barricading every entrance and window.

"Are you sure this is necessary?" She asked, tears of uncertainty beginning to fill her eyes.

"You didn't hear him-or see the determined look on his face. I hope I am over reacting, but nonetheless, we can't afford to be careless."

The hair on the back of Bella's neck stood up as she swore she heard a lone war cry off in the distance.

They worked feverishly, blocking every window and door, closing the flue on the fireplace. Once the room was secure, Father Whitlock moved the large bed to the center of the room, away from any windows or outside walls.

"We can stay here. It's the safest place-just in case." They sat on the bed and he took her trembling hand in his and rubbed it lightly, reassuringly.

"Father -err Jasper-tell me another story. One that doesn't involve Indians. Please-it'll take my mind elsewhere."

"I was born in the city. We lived in an upstairs apartment in a building on the main street of town. We were only two doors down from the saloon. I heard gunfights at least once a week as I lay in my bed at night. The day I actually saw a man gunned down in broad daylight, was the day I knew my life was to be dedicated to a higher cause."

"I had no idea…" Bella startled at a wolf howling in the distance. "Tell me another, pleeease."

"I'd just turned 16. I started working for a stagecoach driver. I'd help the travelers up and down the steps, strap down their baggage, water the horses, and clean the coach. It happened that one summer we were to be working with the circus, as they traveled the area. I awoke at night to lions roaring and the elephant's trumpet. I actually learned a few acrobatic tricks that summer."

Her face full of awe, without even thinking Bella leaned forward and kissed the preacher right on the cheek. Her cheeks warm and her face pink Bella said "Thank you for all you've done for me Father."

He smiled warmly. "I just hope I can do enough when I'm needed the most."

Darkness had long settled in, and Bella was finding it more and more difficult to keep her eyes open. Finally, she allowed her head to fall onto her pillow. She slowly inhaled her Daddy's familiar scent still heavy on the mattress and faded off to sleep.

Jasper was patrolling the perimeter from the inside of the house when he noticed Sheriff Swan's shotgun hanging above the door.

Ashamed of the impulses he was feeling, Jasper took the gun down and felt it in his hands. It was something so against every grain of his being. But-if his life or Bella's life was in danger, could he use that gun?

The preacher set the gun down beneath the window facing the direction of the reservation. Unsure if he could bring himself to fire it if he needed, he was sure to make it accessible, just in case.

"Uh"

Jasper jumped at the sound-before realizing it was only Bella making sounds in her sleep.

"Jaaaasssperrr"

His eyes widened at the sound of his name from her lips. It wasn't as he'd heard her say it any other time that day. It was slow, and deep, and somewhat… _sinful_?

He moved toward her, sitting on the edge of the bed. He watched her face as it changed expression: her brow furrowing and raising again, her lips moving in a soft smile. He listened as her words turned to soft breathy gasps.

She was dreaming.

Against his better judgment but unable to fight his longing, Jasper lay down beside her on the bed. He could feel the warmth radiate from her body. He longed to feel that warmth….that warmth he'd never known.

He closed his eyes just for a second when the piercing shrill of breaking glass filled the room. Bella screamed and Jasper immediately sprang from the bed. Within seconds, there was a banging at the front door so loud and strong that it vibrated several books right off the nearby shelves. Over and over, they heard what had to be a tree trunk strike the door, weakening it with every jolt. After about the tenth blow, as the hinges were popping free of the doorframe, Jasper had to think fast. Without any second thoughts or apprehension, Jasper grabbed Sheriff Swan's shotgun, cocked it and fired-blowing a whole right threw the center of the door; as well as, the brave known as Black.

His hands shaking, his knuckles still gripping the barrel of the shotgun, Jasper moved toward the Indian for a closer look. Dead. He stood there for many moments, frozen.

Bella still in shock herself, tears staining her cheeks—gently removed the gun from Jasper's hands. She looked up at him to find his cheeks covered in tears, too.

"How could I do that? How could I strike down one of God's children?" He asked, remorse already overtaking him.

"If you hadn't, Jasper, he'd have taken me-and he'd have-he'd have-". She looked Jasper squarely in the face and spoke with a new found strength. "He'd have raped me Jasper. He'd have forced me to go with him—and he'd have raped me. And Jasper, he'd probably have killed you, too."

Looking from the gun to the body and back to the gun, Jasper collapsed to the floor, his head in his hands. Bella knelt beside him, running her fingers through his hair, stroking him lovingly.

When Jasper's composure returned, with a look of resolve, he turned to Bella and gently kissed her lips. Unable to make her body do anything but comply, Bella melted into his strong embrace. Fire coursed through Jasper's veins as he suddenly released years of pent up need and weeks of controlled emotion. His desperate hands fondled her skin; his hungry mouth searched and caressed Bella's lips, cheeks, shoulders.

Bella jumped. "Father Whitlock! What are we doing? You are a man of God…and I am unworthy…"

"No more Bella. I've killed. How can I disgrace my position? Besides, all I can think of is you. Every morning, every night…everything is you. Your seductive eyes and your soft creamy skin. I have an uncontrollable need to hold you and to feel you; to kiss you and to taste you. I know this is wrong Bella- please, if you wish for me to go-I will."

"No. Jasper, please stay. I've dreamt of the touch you speak of. I want to _know_ you, too."

With her words of consent, Jasper feverishly began unlacing the corset atop Bella's blouse, his eyes focused on her swollen bounty. His long slender fingers moved with haste, driven by the raw need to caress and suckle her warm sweetly curved flesh.

The rhythm of Bella's own heartbeat played a deafening tempo in her ears. Unable to hear a coherent thought-all she had to rely on was need and want and desire.

Her hands wrapped around his biceps, gently gliding down until they rested on his lean muscular legs. His body heat radiated right through his clothes, simply adding to her unbridled longing. It was an unfamiliar yearning -to touch him-there. She moved her eyes to the area in which she'd find his stirring manhood. Slowly, carefully she moved her hand to hover just above before finally placing it on his rigid shaft. A low deep moan escaped his lips as his erection began to throb beneath her fingers. Startled by his immediate arousal, Bella pulled away only to have Jasper's gently place hers atop his engorged manhood as he guided her in sensual stroking rhythm.

Finally, unlacing the corset enough to remove it, Jasper quickly found his way beneath her blouse. His hands kneaded her soft fleshy mounds as his fingers moved to toy with her shimmering buds. His groin ached as they pebbled beneath his touch.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Jasper began burrowing beneath her petticoat. Just as he closed in on her warm center, Bella unfastened a button and the entire petticoat instantly fell to the floor. Jasper's astonished eyes met hers and she smiled a shy yet seductive smile. Sliding his hand beneath her pantaloons, he brushed his fingertips against the damp petals of her womanhood. The moment he made contact, Jasper could feel a vibration exude throughout Bella's entire being. She let out the softest, most erotic moan. Jasper allowed his fingers to glide along her slippery wetness until he found her passion-moistened secret center. He rubbed and caressed as she arched to meet his talented fingers, until her thighs began to tremble and her hips began to buck. Increasing his tempo, Bella began to jerk violently until she cried out in a frenzied explosion of exquisite sensation.

Bella continued to rub Jasper's bulging mound, until his breathing became ragged gasps. Overcome by passion and lust, she slid her hand down beneath Jasper's pants until she was gripping his straining masculinity. Following the rhythm he'd shown her, Bella began to slide her hand up and down his swollen member until his hips began to undulate of their own accord. Pumping his throbbing cock back and forth through her grasp, Jasper rode the wild and wonderful waves of sheer ecstasy until it ended in a white-hot eruption.

The young lovers collapsed into one another's arms, beads of sweat peppering their bodies. They'd come together as one that night, fueled by fear and need and lust. Leaving Bella's virtue intact for the moment, they had only to decide exactly what was to become of their affection.

**Okay-are you laughing? (I am. LOL) **

**Go review…I'm dying to know what you think!**


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